Why Am I Trying To Save Him?
by Book-BoyObsessed956439
Summary: After Damon goes missing, Elena seems to be the only one who cares. But when she starts to search for him, she will run into some deadly surprises along the way. Will either of them make it out alive?
1. Chapter 1

Elena was hiding from Stefan behind the house, trying to avoid getting pinned down and tickled again. It was fun, playing with him like this. Stefan rarely was in a playful mood, and he had put this one on especially for her. She had been feeling angry and resentful toward Damon over what he did to Jeremy. He comes up with some drunken speech to get Elena in bed as a rebound for Katherine, and killed her brother when she said no. He's cruel, and cold, and _evil_.

At least, that's what a part of her thought. Another part, the part that cared for Damon, was sad that she had been so harsh on him. He was nearly crying in front of her, he just wanted her help him. But his continuous presence in her and Stefan's relationship, always there complicating things, is what made her give him the cold shoulder. She could've handled that a little more gracefully, not throwing Stefan in his face, but she didn't know what Katherine said. She didn't know he would lose his mind. There was nothing she could've done.

Except kiss him back, tell him the truth – that she loved him too. But even she didn't know that. Subconsciously she was always wondering what Damon was up to, _subconsciously_ she always felt a little safer and happier when Damon came in the room. But if someone asked her who she loved, and who she would always love, she would say Stefan Salvatore, without even blinking.

Maybe that was a bad thing…

She leaned back slightly, thinking she had finally lost Stefan for a moment and she could breathe, but when her back hit something hard and she looked back, two strong arms wrapped around her chest tightly, making her let out a squeal. "Stefan!"

He laughed at her, turning her around and lying her down on the ground. She struggled, giggling under his hands. "Stefan, don't!"

He ignored her, ruffling his fingers on her abdomen, making her squirm and squeal in laughter at the goose bumps shooting up her spine. Her sides where especially sensitive to tickles, and Stefan loved taking advantage of that. He straddled her hips and ran his fingers under her shirt, moving them as though he were playing an instrument, causing her to near scream.

"Stefan! Stop it!" She squealed again, just making Stefan laugh a little harder.

"Mmm, no." He chuckled, leaning down and nuzzling her neck as he continued to tickle her sides. She squeaked and squirmed, having more fun than she would admit, but he didn't let up for a long while.

When she started wheezing beneath him, cheeks flushed a dark shade of pink, he pulled off and let her have a breath. She sat up, falling onto his chest, panting harshly as she snuggled into him.

"Feeling better?" He asked, his voice full of love and happiness.

Something about his tone made Elena sick, but she smiled up at him. "Yep." Then she leaned in, kissing his neck and nuzzling at the flesh. "You know what would make me _really_ happy?"

Stefan moaned slightly at the contact and leaned his head back, a small smile on his lips as he stood up, pulling her with him. As they walked in the door, Elena continued to nip at his throat, forcing him to walk backward into the house, blindly having to trust her. She shoved him down on the couch, kissing and nipping at the skin of his collarbone. She straddled his hips, loving the sounds she could get out of him.

She was counting backwards in her head, waiting for Damon to show up and call Stefan "Fabio" for his shirt riding up slightly under Elena's hands. It had turned into a habit, a routine. Elena dragged her tongue up Stefan's throat, getting a low moan out of him that turned into a growl. Three…two…one…

_ Whoa . . . cover up, Fabio,_ Damon's voice sounded, making Elena look up with annoyance. But when she glanced in the direction his voice came from, he wasn't there. "Damon?" She called.

Stefan lifted his brow, putting his hands on her shoulders, and she realized Damon had only spoke in her mind. "Is it really the time to be calling my brother, baby?"

Elena's forehead creased in confusion. Damon was always there, _always_, forcing her and Stefan off of 'his' couch, and he would sit and drink and sulk and Stefan and she would go upstairs into Stefan's room and finish what they started.

The fact he wasn't there made Elena feel sick. "Where is he?"

Stefan shook his head, wondering what the point of this was. "Probably at the bar, what does it matter?"

What was she supposed to say to that? That she wanted to stop an intense sexual moment between them to find his older brother? That wouldn't send up red flags in his mind; Stefan didn't even like them talking after he found out Damon thought he had kissed her, being ignored and abandoned over Damon wouldn't please Stefan much.

Elena sighed and faked a smile. "It doesn't," She lied, leaning down and pressing her lips to Stefan's again. Damon would just have to wait.

Several hours and four rounds later, Elena was lying on Stefan's chest, eyes staring at nothing in particular as Stefan slept silently. She was starting to become annoyed; the bed kept making this crackling noise every time someone breathed out. Stefan, sleeping peacefully, was oblivious, and maybe it wasn't as loud as Elena thought it was, but with all the worry and confusion over Damon, the sound was deafening. Finally, she sat up and looked down at the bed, pulling the sheets up to cover her exposed breasts. There didn't appear to be anything wrong with it, perhaps it was her imagination?

She sighed and collapsed back down on the pillow, rolling over, not wanting to be touching Stefan right now. If vampires were able to procreate, she would swear she was pregnant and having morning sickness and mood swings. The crinkle-crack only got louder on this pillow, and Elena snarled, sitting up and picking up the pillow to find a neatly folded piece of paper, wrinkled from being rolled over so often.

She furrowed her brows and picked it up, considering waking Stefan. Her hand lingered over his shoulder, her mind telling her to wake him. She was in _his_ bed, reading a note that was most likely meant for _him_ . . . but it was under _her_ pillow, so she rolled back over, unfolding the paper.

_ To whomever it may concern, please give this note to Elena Gilbert._  
_ Elena, I'm sorry, but I have to depart this town for a while. I cannot stand to watch you and my brother. It hurts too much, and I cannot take the daily torment of watching the two of you flirt and fantasize about your night doings right in front of my eyes._  
_ Please do not fret, or attempt to find me. I'll be in touch._  
_ Soon._  
_ Damon_

Elena felt her stomach churn. There was no way he was gone, _no possible way_. It didn't even sound like Damon, he would never write something like this. If he did leave, he would just up and leave, let Elena and Stefan and everyone wonder where he was, and if he was okay. He would think it was funny. She shook her head, tears stinging her eyes. How could he be gone? Where would he go if he did leave? Would he really ever leave her?

The thought made her heart burst into a million little pieces, but the reason she was close to having a panic attack was not the thought of living without Damon. It was the fact that Damon hadn't even said goodbye, the fact that this note was not how Damon Salvatore would ever speak . . . and now that she looked at it for a while, it wasn't in his hand writing either.

Her stomach dropped as the realization hit her; Damon Salvatore was missing.

* * *

_**Hello, everyone! I hope you made it to my Author Note and didn't get bored in the middle and leave! =]**_  
_**Please tell me what you think in the reviews, reviews make me OH-SO-HAPPY! =D**_  
_**Thank you for reading, the next chapter should be up A.S.A.P.! **_


	2. Chapter 2

Elena was in the front room, pacing, close to having a panic attack. She was wearing her jeans and shirt again, almost looking like she and Stefan hadn't seen each other yet. She had read the note fifteen times if she'd read it once, and the more she read it the more faults she noticed. Damon would never talk like that, ever, and the writing...damn, the writing looked familiar but she didn't know why. She sighed, and let a shriek slip when she felt hands on her waist.

"Whoa." Stefan chuckled before his eyes turned concerned. "You okay?"

"No," She said sadly, handing Stefan 'Damon's' note. He shook his head. "What about it? This is a good thing, Elena."

"A good thing?" She echoed with disbelief. "Stefan, Damon's gone! He doesn't even talk like that. To whom it may concern? He would tell me goodbye himself."

Stefan's brows furrowed. "What makes you think that?"

"I think that because..." _he's in love with me_. Isobel said he was in love with her, and now that she almost said that aloud, she started to believe it. He was in love with her, and now that she thought about it, it was blatantly obvious. And she loved him too, the thought was surfacing, and it scared her.

"Because?" Stefan pried.

"I just know, Stefan. He's my friend." Elena started pacing again.

"He killed your brother, Elena," Stefan stated. "He's tried to kill Jeremy, and Bonnie, and Caroline, and he killed _my_ friend. He killed Lexi to save himself. He's a monster, Elena."

"You're no better," She hissed.

"Excuse me?" He asked, eyes wide.

"You said it yourself, you were worse." It was mean, to bring that up, but she was mad that he didn't care what had happened to his own brother.

"Elena..I was in a dark place, I -"

"Killed your father and your brother, I know." She shook her head, waving her hand dismissively.

"What's gotten into you?" He asked, looking like she just slapped him.

"I..." She sighed, thankful for the knock on the door interrupting her false apology.

Stefan had the look of an abused puppy, and Elena sighed again when he opened the door. Maybe she should apologize...

"Brady," Stefan said, moving aside and gesturing for the man to come in.

"Stefan, Elena," He said, nodding to both of them politely before looking at Stefan again. "Where is it?"

"Basement," Stefan replied. "First door over."

He nodded again and smiled sweetly at Elena before jogging down the stairs.

"Who is he?" Elena whispered, even though he was out of earshot.

"He works with Sheriff Forbes," Stefan said. "Damon and her are friends, so he's hear to get some vervain.."

She sighed. "Fine."

"Elena.." He swallowed. "I.."

"I need some air," She interrupted, pushing past Stefan and out on the porch. _Damn_ _me_, she thought. She should've said sorry. He looked so upset over what she just said. She didn't want to hurt him, really, she didn't. But the note had her so worried and the way he just didn't seem to care at all made her so mad. Sympathy wasn't really on her list of emotions right now.

"Dammit, Damon," She sighed, hiding her face in her hands, scared to death.

* * *

**ASAP for me apparently equals a month. I'm so sorry it's taken so long, guys, I got wrapped up in a different story. For real, now, I will be updating this one! =]  
(sorry this is so short, by the way.) **


	3. Chapter 3

**Because once you can _hurt_, you can _love_. ~_Lexi_**

* * *

Damon

It was cold, and dark. His head was pounding, and he couldn't tell if his clothes were soaked with blood, sweat, water, tears..or all of the above. It was damp, uncomfortably so, and his ring was gone, so he kept having to push himself back into the corner when a beam of sunlight would come down from the crack in the ceiling. Moving made him sick, and he'd end up putting his head between his knees. And the clicking above him was driving him insane. . It was soon joined by a set of louder noises, slower. .thud. The clicking stopped for a while before kicking up again, faster and harder now, and then the sound of wood being pounded. God, could he not have five minutes of peace? The sun wasn't down on him yet, so he was lying on the cold ground, and he was trying to let darkness take him over, but the sounds were driving him up the wall, and his mind wasn't being quiet either.

Where was he, and how did he get here? He had been upstairs, on his couch, drinking and enjoying the only sound being the fire crackling. The scotch was burning his throat, but he really didn't care anymore, he thought he deserved the pain. He knew it. He'd killed so many people. Vicky, Anna, Lexi, Jessica, Caroline, Bonnie, Jeremy. Well, those last three didn't really die, but Elena still blamed him for it. And Anna didn't die at his hand, but he still felt guilty for it. Damn. He hated this. He had turned his emotions off for so long, and killed so many, and he never cared. Ever. It was always a game to him; he was the Katherine in the Petrova line, and Stefan was Elena. Elena. She's the reason he turned his emotions back on in the first place. It wasn't even intentional, but he trusted her - who knew trust was an emotion - and when she backstabbed him, and got the grimoire with Stefan so he couldn't have the _one thing_ he wanted _so badly_, it hurt. Badly. And, stupid him, he kept digging, and trying to figure out why it hurt him so bad, and then he figured it out. The emotion love had slipped into his heart. He was in love with Elena.

He had buried the emotion for so long, and just let her be with Stefan. And he was okay. And then she was back, Katherine. His 'first love' - or so he thought - and she came to his house, and ripped his heart out. She was gentle about it - didn't insult him in anyway - just blunt and honest. "I never loved you; it was always Stefan."

Which burned like hell. He sat down, he cried, he got drunk. And in his intoxicated state of mind, he realized what he needed. He needed someone he could talk to, someone he could confine in, someone he could trust and cry too.

He needed Elena.

But going to the woman you really love when you are upset and drunk is not a good combination.

She asked if he was drinking, and he gestured, "A little.." and she noticed the tear stains on his face. Told him he was upset - no shit. He didn't like be told he was anything. And when he denied it, she then told him he cared. He glared at her, and poured what his drunken self thought was his heart out, and he kissed her. And she didn't kiss him back, but when she pulled away he could tell she wanted to. He went to hold her hand, and she held it back, which is what let him know she felt the same, and that trust was there, in his eyes, and he was open and vulnerable and she stabbed him with the words, "I love Stefan, it's always gonna be Stefan."

He nearly broke down crying and fell into her arms again. When Katherine said it, he felt like he'd been slapped, but when Elena said it..she might as well have just staked him right there. He squeezed her hand, his eyes pleading, and then her charming little brother came in. "Everything okay in here?"

And when he snapped, he snapped Jeremy's neck too.

Thank God for that ring, it's the only thing that made Elena even semi concerned for his well being.

He sniffled, tears stinging his eyes at that memory. Was something wrong with him? Was he just not good enough for anyone? His dad hated him, he had two women using him as some sort of play toy, and his brother wished he'd drop dead. The only one who ever cared about him was his mom, and he was eight when she died. He didn't even know, maybe she didn't care either. Maybe that's why she had Stefan. Stefan had killed her. She birthed him and then she passed, less than a week later, because something was wrong with the pregnancy. And, for some reason, Damon was left being abused and hated by his father.

By everyone.

He jumped suddenly, groaning loudly when it caused him an intense amount of pain, when he heard the door creak. It was either too dark, or he was too injured to see that far, but he got scared anyway. He tried to back up, but the man's foot was on his thigh and he let out a small cry and fell back on the floor.

"Vamps.." He hissed above him, digging his heal into the flesh of Damon's thigh, getting a low whimper to hold back the agonized scream. Why did everything hurt? His jeans weren't wet, so he knew he wasn't bleeding there, so why did the pressure make him want to writhe and scream?

"Ain't vervain a wonderful thing?" Asked the tormenter. "Granted, you needed a good helping of it, in several locations, but..Oh well. You're down now."

"Who are you?" Damon choked out, his throat catching on fire in the process.

"You don't recognize me?" The smirk was clear in his voice. "I tried to kill your girl."

Damon snarled, still sounding vicious in his weak state.

"Yes, little Elena," He continued. "She's worried about you. Dreadfully. God only knows why."

He leaned down, face mere inches away from Damon's, hissing, "She will never see you again, vampire. Your reign of terror ends here."


	4. Chapter 4

**~oOoOo~**

**Short, yes. Sorry 'bout that, but it's another chapter. :P  
Enjoy! **

* * *

Elena

Elena sighed as Brady came back outside. She smiled sweetly, nodding in his general direction as she leaned over the railing outside.

"Are you okay?" He asked, carrying a bag in his hand filled with what Elena assumed was vervain.

"Yeah, why?" She asked.

"You just seem kind of...out of it," He said. "And Stefan looks like hell in there."

She sighed, wishing she cared more about that. "It's just..Damon's missing, and I don't understand why he doesn't care."

He shrugged. "From what I've heard, Damon's not one to hang around for too long. Maybe he left. Did you consider that?"

"Sort of," She admitted. "But it just seems so unlike him. He wouldn't leave me."

It sounded selfish, but she believed it was true.

He shrugged again. "I gotta get going," He said. "You should talk to him. Stefan, I mean. He looks upset."

She sighed again. "Thank you, Brady."

"Thank you," He said, making it obvious he was talking about the vervain, before leaving. She felt the wind rush past her before she heard Stefan say, "Damn werewolves."

"Werewolf?" She repeated. "You let a werewolf take vervain?"

He shrugged. "We have a truce at the moment. They don't know Damon killed Mason."

"So you just gave away the vervain. Very smart, Stefan," She hissed. He winced at her tone and looked down, and she sighed, turning to face him. "I'm sorry."

He shook his head. "Don't be. You're stressed, it's understandable."

"That doesn't make it okay," She said, putting her hands on either side of his face. "I love you."

He smiled weakly, leaning down and kissing her forehead. "I love you, too."

She sighed, leaning into him, a little reluctantly.

"Hey," He began, "it'll be okay. If he comes back, great, if not...then not. It's Damon, you had to have known he wouldn't hang around much longer. I mean, it's been two years."

That still didn't settle her stomach. In fact, it made her heart fall that she wasn't good enough to keep Damon's interest. "Right. Of course."

"Are you okay with this now?" He asked.

"Not really." She wasn't going to lie. "I just don't think he would leave like that without so much as a goodbye."

"You don't know him like I do." Something flashed in Stefan's eyes. Remorse? "He tends to leave without so much as a second glance."

She sighed. "I just want to know if he's okay."

He nodded. "Hey, I've got something to finish. Will you be here when I get back?"

"Of course, Mister Salvatore," She said, trying to be playful.

He just sighed. "I'll see you later, Elena."

He kissed her forehead and she nodded, sighing once he was gone. She missed being able to play. When she was with Matt, they always did lame jokes like that. Mister Donovan. Miss Gilbert. When they were younger, ten or so, he used to call her Misses Donovan. It always made her smile. Then her parents died, and she went into a brooding sort of state, and her and Matt grew apart. She was pretty sure Caroline liked him now, which was good. She wanted her friends to be happy.

She wanted to be happy though, too. She wanted to be the Elena she was before her parents died. The confident, happy Elena. The one who liked pet names and going out on a Friday night, who liked to take a break every now and again and just . . . leave town, her family in distress, go away for a weekend of drinking and playing pool, making the bartender and crowd shellshocked at how high her tolerance for alcohol was. So high she could out-drink the vampire who'd been drinking himself to sleep since eighteen-sixty-four.

Georgia, last year. Bree's bar. "Vampires can't procreate. But we love to try."

She smiled slightly at the memory. That had been the most fun she'd had in a long time.

At that, her phone rang. She didn't bother with the caller ID, she just answered. "Hello?"

"Elena?" Someone croaked. His voice was ruined, rough and hoarse from lack of using it. Or screaming. She had sounded like that when she came home from a concert with Caroline a few years back. Her eyes widened as he coughed, a harsh, violent sound. A cough that would bring tears to your eyes. "Elena, is that you?"

_Oh, God._

"Damon?"


End file.
